A Recollection of A.P.P.............. I was in high school, back in '74, when my father signed me up for a week long canoe/camping trip to Algonquin Provincial Park. Six of us set out from suburban New Jersey in a VW van, all from the same high school. We crossed into Canada, bought gas (imperial gallon = 5 quarts), and ate at a small rural cafe. They didn't have ketchup out. We had to request it. I think they used vinegar on their french fries. We rented 3 canoes, and for 3 days kept heading deeper and deeper into the park, which is quite large, and has a number of lakes and islands. In an emergency, you would build a smokey fire. An airplane patrolled the park once a day. We slept in tents we pitched. The lake water was used for transportation, drinking, cooking, and bathing. Many times we had to portage to get to the next lake. The canoe had a padded yoke across it. One person would carry it upside-down with it resting on his shoulders. Meanwhile, the abundant mosquitoes would be eating you alive on the face, neck, and all over. Unable to swat them, it was maddening! (Bring repellant!) The deeper we got into the park, the less people we saw. We always set up tent on an island to avoid bears. The loons would sometimes surface from underwater fairly close to the boat. We breifly went down a river with rapids and a whirlpool, and the canoe flipped over. One evening we were on a small dome shaped island, that was thickly wooded. It started raining heavily, with abundant lightning crackling down all around us. The water on the ground was washing by, but we were able to keep it from flowing through the tent. Early the next evening, on another island, I remember looking out over the vast still lake, the silence broken only by the mournful cry of the loons.